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Alex wakes up to the bitter taste of coffee tinged with just enough cinnamon to drag him out of sleep.
He blinks into the dim room, blackout curtains still drawn tight over the windows. String lights line the wall, illuminating the room in all colors of the rainbow, and when Alex lifts his head he finds the ceiling covered with glow-up stars that brings him right back to his childhood, his father’s arms holding him up so he can press them right above his bed. Another flicker of light, just in front of him, guiding his eyes until he finds a pair of hands cradling a small cupcake.
“Happy birthday, love,” Henry whispers behind the cupcake, the smile on his face lit up by the gentle glow of the candle. Alex prides himself in keeping his cool in many situations—he prides himself in his composure, in his ability to let most things slide off his back. And then there’s his fiancé holding a stupid cupcake, his fiancé who apparently decorated the whole goddamn room as he slept, and Alex feels like climbing Henry like a tree, hugging him tight, and crying until the day turns and it’s not his birthday anymore.
“You fucker,” he says as he pushes himself up into a sitting position; Henry laughs, shifting to give Alex his space, legs crossed over the bed. “You absolute fucker, how did you even—” Alex doesn’t quite have the words to explain it all—to point out every stupid detail in the room. But Henry seems to understand anyway.
“You tend to sleep like a log whenever you take melatonin,” he says, that fucking bastard who put the pill in front of him just last night. “I was quite sure you wouldn’t wake up.”
“Quite sure,” Alex parrots. Henry smiles bashfully.
“Well, I did have to step on the bed to put the stars on the ceiling. June said they were your favorites.” Henry looks at him through his lashes, cheekbones covered in a light pink dust, and searches Alex’s face. “Do you like it?” he asks, as if there’s a fucking universe out there Alex wouldn’t love such a fucking thoughtful surprise Henry crafted for him—as if Alex wouldn’t love anything that came out of that brilliant mind of his. He lets out a laugh and takes Henry’s face in his hands so he can kiss it stupid, so he can feel the warm lips enveloping his and lashes tickling his skin and the soft waves under his fingertips, a goddamn mess in the morning yet beautiful regardless, like some kind of a royal fairy magic was applied to it.
Alex had a lot of birthdays over the years—he’s had the big parties as a kid, where all his school friends were invited and he got to wear a paper crown and pretend to be king for a day. He’s had the lowkey ones, where it was just June and him in his bedroom eating cake, Oscar on the other side of the country and Ellen spending the night in the office campaigning for yet another position. He’d had the fancy dates with Henry, the ones where cameras followed them around, the ones coinciding with an event they absolutely couldn’t miss so Alex donned a suit, took Henry’s hand, and put on a 1000-Watt smile for the sake of the public. Yet he thinks this one is his favorite—this private moment in his bedroom, fairy lights illuminating the bed, Henry cradling a small cupcake and teasing him about melatonin like it hasn’t been his plan all along.
“First,” he whispers, pulling back just enough to look at Henry’s eyes, “you’re so fucking stupid.”
Henry barks out a laugh. “Thank you?” he says like it’s a question, and Alex simply has to grin, brushing his hair back.
“Second…” He wraps his fingers around the cupcake right over Henry’s hands. “I fucking love it.” Another beat, and then he rolls his eyes. “As if that was even a fucking question. I would’ve smacked you upside down if you weren’t holding my cupcake right now just so you get it through that thick head of yours—”
“Okay,” Henry interjects with a laugh, shaking his head. “Okay. Understood.” He shoots Alex an insulted look, but there’s something so fond about it, so loving that it buoys Alex’s heart until he isn’t sure how he’s not floating in the air just from the feel of it. “Do you still want the cupcake or not?” he asks, and Alex squeezes his hands.
“Yes, I want the cupcake, thank you very much.” He meets Henry’s eyes and then mirrors the smile on his face, lingering in each other’s presence just for a moment before Alex turns to the cupcake.
“Make a wish,” Henry whispers gently, as if Alex doesn’t already have everything he could ever wish for. He does it anyway.
Let me spend the rest of my life with Henry by my side.
Then he blows the candles.